


Hotel Xavier

by Morgana_Ehran



Category: X-Men: First Class - Fandom
Genre: 1966 To Be Precise, Alternative Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternative Universe - Still Have Powers, Angst, Author Doesn't Understand A Psychology, Charles Isn't Really Helping, Charles is a Tease, Child Abuse Mentioned, Drinking, Emotionally Crippled Erik Is Fun To Read, Erik Has An Existential Crise, Erik Smokes Because The Author Thinks It's Sexy, M/M, Mentions of the Holocaust, Nightmares, Sixties, UST, erik's pov, hotel!au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-13
Updated: 2013-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-19 08:37:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/881721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgana_Ehran/pseuds/Morgana_Ehran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 1966: Shaw is dead and Erik still hunts Nazis but it's not the same. Than he arrives to the hotel that is by no means ordinary. When he gets familiar with its owner and staff, he doesn't know the owner has the plans for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nowhere Man

**Author's Note:**

> So once I was thinking 'What would Erik do if he killed Shaw but didn't know Charles or any other mutants?' and then I somehow ended writing this. Well. I have to admit I have things for hotels. They are magical places. 
> 
> The titles of chapters are names of the songs that reminds me of Cherik. Mostly it'll be the songs from The Beatles's album Rubber Soul (it appears in the fic later).
> 
> I have to thank my lovely beta-reader, Charlio. She's darling.

It took Erik almost a year to track down Schliemann and now he was standing in his apartment and Schliemann was dead. Obviously for a few days now. It looked like the death was quicker than Erik, and the heart attack was to blame. Eleven months. Erik stood there and anger and disappointment was flooding his mind. It felt as if something was slipping from his fingers. Like he was loosing control over something but wasn’t really sure what it was. 

Erik stopped looking at the dead body on the floor and turned to leave. Nothing could be done now about it. He left the house with more wrath than he had when entering it. He used his powers to lock the door again and then cast a quick glance to the street. There were a few people but no one seemed to pay attention to him. So Erik adjusted his hat and started for his car. Though his wasn’t really the right word to use. While hunting down various people all around the world, Erik got used to certain standards and propriety wasn’t in his vocabulary. He took what he needed and then he left it behind again. Simple as that. 

_I should lie low for a while,_ he thought absently as he started the engine and drove away. It would probably be a good idea because he was quite sure the government was after him. Luckily for him he had been able to shake them off, so far anyway. But he had no other targets in mind right now and so taking a break would be reasonable; to take time to find more information and come up with another plan. Yes. That sounded acceptable.

He didn’t really think where he was driving to. It didn’t really matter since he had no actual target and certainly no place to return to. So he just drove out of Manhattan up to the north, wanting to find a more remote place to lodge. But, as it was getting late, he didn’t have much time to do so. Since it was January it was dark outside already and as soon as he got into White Plains it started to snow heavily which he found quite ironic. So he decided not to make a big deal of it, and when he saw an advert by the road informing about a hotel a few miles away he took its direction. The snowing turned to a snowstorm and then it was impossible to see through. But it didn’t take even ten minutes for Erik to reach his destination. 

When Erik first looked out of the window he was struck by how immense and ancient the building that was supposed to be the hotel was. It was a _mansion_ actually. It surprised Erik at first but since the characters of social classes were changing rapidly, the use of such fancy buildings was changing too. And Erik had already stayed in various places resembling this. He had enough money to pay for luxurious hotels. Since he had no real home, at least he could live more than decently. 

He picked his things up and left the car. His arrival went probably unnoticed since no one appeared to help him with his luggage. But Erik didn’t mind – he used his power to lighten the weight of it. 

And there was one thing that bothered Erik since it had appeared – his mysterious, unbelievable power. Erik never understood where he got it and if it was natural causes or Schmidt’s fault. It certainly served him well but then, he never knew if he should be grateful for it or repulsed by it. Who knows what his life would be like without it. One thing was for sure – Schmidt would have taken an interest in him if he didn’t have it. He would be better without it, but no matter how much he tried, he could never get rid of this ability. In the end he had learned to live with it. 

Erik had no trouble entering the building, the door being opened and everything. He found himself in a grand, empty hall, in a manifest of the era and money from which the mansion had come. But the furnishings were reduced to necessities so it didn’t look so pretentious. Erik didn’t feel very strongly about it – it was just another place to stay. 

There was a reception, but nobody stood behind it. Erik took one more look around before he went over to it and flicked his hand to make his power ring the bell. The sound echoed loudly in the enormous hall. Erik cringed slightly before he heard the approaching clatter of heels so he put down his luggage and took off his hat. He swept the snow off it before it started to melt, ignoring that he was messing up the hotel’s floor. Then he felt vague feel of metallic buckle on the belt and earrings before the receptionist even came in view. 

“Good evening, welcome to the Hotel Xavier,” she said when she did, putting on a small but genuine smile and formal voice. She seemed young, all round doll face with long blond hair. She would look quite angelic if it weren’t for her rather short dress and high boots. It obviously wasn’t uniform or anything formal, which was a surprising contrast to the elegance of the mansion. Erik looked up from her bare half-revealed thighs and overcame his confusion.

“Good evening. I’d like to check in,” Erik stated in his calm, neutral voice. Then he thought 'it’s Thursday' and he had nowhere to rush so he added: “Until the end of the week. Maybe longer, I’m not sure yet.”

“Certainly,” the receptionist nodded and she fetched the guest book. “If you could register and sign here...” she continued as she opened the notebook and handed him a pen. Erik took it and bent over to write down his false name as usual. While doing so he noticed that the last guest checked out about four days ago. The place surely wasn’t frequented, so Erik could only wonder why. The receptionist started to talk again, informing him about necessary things like price – which was accurate – or the hotel’s restaurant. While Erik listened to her he realised she was speaking learned phrases. She didn’t look all that professional if he thought about it. Like it was just her part-time job and she didn’t really understand. Which could be the case anyway. Erik didn’t think about it too hard.

“We don’t really have a bellhop but I could get someone from staff to help you with your luggage,” she proposed as she was handing him the keys. The information about the bellhop was another surprise colliding with the looks of the hotel but Erik let it go as unimportant.

“That’s alright,” he waved it off, wanting to be alone already. He gathered the keys, his hat and his luggage and started for the elevator, which seemed out of place and time here. No one was operating it but he didn’t mind. Erik had been used to certain standards but wasn’t spoiled. He was able to take care of himself. And he understood that in the hotel that had two guests per a week, it was useless to have too many staff. 

The room was quite spacious and well-furnished. He threw the luggage and his hat on the queen sized bed and took off his coat. The room wasn’t very warm. There was a fireplace, clean and unused, and probably newly installed central heating; so he turned it on. When he was certain it had started to warm, he took out the packet of cigarettes from the breast pocket of his coat. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it up with his metallic lighter. Smoking was a habit which had appeared after Schmidt’s death. Before that he was very careful with his health, not wanting to take a risk before he was done with Schmidt. Now it seemed to have much less importance, and smoking was good, allowing him to keep something metallic on himself to play with. Schmidt’s coin had disappeared with him and Erik had been used to playing with something small when brooding. Somehow it helped him concentrate. 

Erik sat on the bed and helped himself to the glass ashtray sat on the night table which he put beside him. As he smoked he thought about the near future. Never distant future because it was too hard to imagine. But the near future wasn’t as unbelievable. 

When he decided to devote his life to revenge, he thought it'd also be the last thing he’d do. Maybe he didn't think it was possible that he’d die while killing Schmidt. No, he was counting on it, taking it for granted. Like it was bound to happen. Yet it wasn’t at all. Killing Schmidt was like killing part of him, but he didn’t die. With Schmidt dead so was his life goal, everything he lived for since he was teenager. Raw outrage and passionate hate passed and was replaced by dullness. 

How stupid it was to think that killing Schmidt will end his suffering. Memories were stuck with him and satisfaction tasted bitter. Yes, it felt good to kill him but not as good as he had expected. His daydreams outranked reality. It made him angry. Nothing had happened as he'd imagined it. Schmidt died by his hand but he didn’t feel happy. He should have died too. Now he didn’t know what to do with years he didn’t take into account. 

To keep hunting Nazis was a logical step, but he didn’t feel as strongly about it as before. Let them all rot. Schmidt was dead and that was it. Or so he thought. And now at the age of thirty-five he felt less determined and confident than when he was fifteen.

He sighed in exasperation. He felt tired. Not physically but mentally. Like he had lived three lives instead of one but was denied the chance to die at least once. _But I did. I died when I failed to save my mother,_ he thought bitterly. Since than he wasn’t human anymore. Just a monster. Schmidt’s monster. Even Mary Shelley would be repulsed. However Erik knew what happened to the monster when Dr. Frankenstein died. 

“It’s not the same, it’s not,” he said to himself firmly as he smashed the butt of the cigarette into the ashtray. He placed it back on the night-stand and went to the bathroom to refresh himself a bit. It was getting late and he hadn’t had dinner yet. The pretty receptionist said the hotel’s kitchen worked until nine p.m. So he should get going. He adjusted his jacket, straightened his tie and combed back his hair neatly. Erik knew very well that a smart appearance opened doors. 

Getting back to the entry hall was easy but when he searched for the restaurant, he nerly got lost. The building was immense not only from the outside. There were too many rooms and marks weren’t much help. But Erik was very able at orienting himself even in an unknown environment so he found the restaurant rather quickly. Still he had to admit the house was too large for its own good.

When he walked in he found he wasn’t the only one here. There were two young men – one black, the other Caucasian – dining at one table, and in the farthest corner was seated a bulky guy talking with a young waitress. Erik wondered if they were guests but doubted it since he had seen the guest book which was rather sadly thin. As soon as he took a seat, the waitress said something to the guy and strode to Erik. She looked as young as the receptionist but otherwise she was like her opposite. Obviously Hispanic with dark skin and hair, exotic and demonic. But her self-confident expression made clear she was hard to get. 

“Good evening,” she said, her voice practical and brisk. She handed him a menu. “What can I get you for a drink?” 

“Beer,” Erik said as laconically. The waitress nodded shortly and turned away to get his order. She wore as short a dress as the receptionist and Erik noticed some kind of tattoo running down her thighs. Erik liked her even more. He blessed girls these days.

When she came back with the glass of beer he ordered his chosen food. As he waited he drunk his beer – not bad but nothing nearly as good as German beer – and looked around the room casually. The high ceiling and windows made it look profuse but the furnishing were more modern and ordinary so it softened the coldness of historical savour. He still wasn’t sure if he liked it but staying here didn’t require any personal thoughts about it. Just another place to stay, he repeated to himself.

The attractive waitress brought him his food and then went to sit down with two men for a change. The guy in the corner smoked a cigar peacefully and looked uninterested in his surroundings. Erik started to eat quickly but smoothly like a well-oiled machine as he had learned over the years. Since he had been in camps he was never able to eat much, but to eat quickly had been an instinctive habit ever since. He never gained much weight, being skinny and wiry, but that was the way he was even before war so maybe he couldn’t blame it on the Holocaust. 

Once he finished, the waitress got to her feet and went to clean his plate. Erik thanked but didn’t comment on food – which wasn’t bad too but nothing extraordinary either – and ordered a coffee and a glass of Scotch. He pulled cigarettes from his breast pocket and lit one up. The waitress appeared again with his order and eyed his pack of cigarettes. 

“These are Mexican,” she commented.

“They are,” Erik agreed and looked at her expectantly. He'd bought them week ago in Mexico City where he'd searched for information about Schliemann.

“My dad smoked them. Could I steal one?” she asked and already made a move for the pack. She certainly wasn’t a coy one.

“Feel free to,” Erik nodded to the pack. She pulled one out and Erik played a getleman as he lit it up for her. 

“Thanks,” she grinned at him and took a seat without asking. But since she was attractive, Erik let her. 

“So your family is Mexican?” Erik asked, not because he wanted to make small talk but he was always curious and sympathetic when meeting another foreigner. Though it was too easy when one travelled around the USA.

“No, my dad was but my mum came from Puerto Rico,” the waitress informed him as she smoked with a pleased smile.

“Why the past tense?” Erik couldn’t help but ask.

“We don’t see each other anymore. Had a row,” she explained curtly. Her hardened expression revealed there was more to it but Erik knew better than to pry. 

“And where did you come from?” she asked in return, arching an eyebrow in curiosity. 

“Depends on what you mean,” Erik shrugged, already preparing false answers to reply. 

“Birds of a feather flock together,” she said nonchalantly. Erik knew his accent was giving him away as well as his coarse features. He relaxed a bit.

“I’m German,” Erik replied truthfully because he could hide it as much as he wanted but it always became obvious. 

_I could live anywhere in the world but this wouldn’t change. I come from a nation that betrayed its own people._

He tried not to rub his forearm automatically. 

“I though you came from Europe!” the waitress broke in wide grin and she flicked the ash of her cigarette. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around, Mr...”

“Eisenhardt,” Erik supplied. 

“Mr. Eisenhardt. Call me if you need something,” she suggested as she was getting up again and then frowned and added: “And that wasn’t an equivocation. We don’t provide such a kind of service.”

“I wouldn’t dream about it, Miss,” Erik grinned because _what a shame_. 

“I’m Angel,” she informed him with a provocative smile. But Erik knew better than to take it personally. The girl – Angel, he reminded himself to remember it – was beautiful and she knew it and she made it clear she did. But Erik could see that for her he was just another guest – attractive but too old and too strange. And just as he was too old for her taste, she was too young for his. And so it would never pass appreciative glances. 

Erik drank his coffee and his whisky and paid his bill (this time he didn’t start any conversation with Angel). When he was leaving he noticed that bulky guy had left already, but the two young men Angel had spoken to hadn't. His room wasn’t as cold as before but it was too big to actually get warmer. Erik shook off his clothes and went to the bed. As usual it took him long hours to fall asleep. 

~x~

Erik decided to drive to New York again the next day and check up some information. He didn't have a particular name in mind, but he wanted to ask around and visit the National Archives to read some old newspapers and records which could give him hints on some new track. And he wanted to check if Schliemann had already been found or not. 

After he ate his breakfast he got ready to go, and went to return his keys at the reception desk (he had to remember to come back for them lately so the staff wouldn’t wonder how he got into his room without them) which was empty again. The receptionist didn’t do a very good job. If Erik wanted to he could easily break into a cash-register. But something told him it wouldn’t be worth it. He didn’t know what made the hotel live on but he presumed it wasn’t its profit.

When he stepped outside and round the corner for the parking lot, he found the pretty receptionist heading for a dustbin, her arms full of a box which contained a lot of broken glasses. She didn’t wear a coat, just her high boots and another short black dress, her bare thighs covered with goosebumps. 

Not that Erik was so gentleman-like but the poor girl was wobbling as she tried to balance the box and not fall while walking on those high heels in snow. That was why he caught up with her and stopped her. 

“Let me,” he said curtly before taking the box from her.

“It wasn’t that heavy,” she argued but looked rather surprised than offended.

“Rather, mind your legs. You wouldn’t want them broken,” he informed her sourly, giving those legs an ostentatious once-over and pleasantly noted that she blushed immediately. But she scurried after him stubbornly anyway.

“Well, thank you, but I’m perfectly able to take care of myself,” she sputtered, crossing her arms across her chest rebelliously. She was certainly sharper than she looked. It surprised Erik. 

“But someone else of the staff should has done it instead of you. You’re the receptionist anyway,” he pointed out.

“The guys were busy. And I’m...”

“...perfectly able to take care of yourself,” Erik finished for her. The girl glared at him but as she saw Erik wasn’t mocking her, she resigned. 

“Okay, thank you. It’s nice of you,” she admitted at least. 

“No problem,” Erik assured her as he stopped in front of the dustbin. His fingers twitched in a want to use his powers to lift the lid but suppressed it. The receptionist opened it for him. 

“What happened here anyway?” he asked to steer the conversation away from mutual embarrassment.

“Oh, um, just an accident. Our cook, he... he’s a bit clumsy,” the receptionist answered awkwardly. Erik raised an eyebrow but she didn’t explain further.

“Well then, he’s in right place,” Erik joked sarcastically. He thrust the empty box back at her. “I have some business to do.”

“Right. Have a nice day,” she wished him and it sounded more like her receptionist self. Erik just replied by touching his hat and started for his car.

 _What a strange hotel,_ he thought absent-mindedly.

~x~

His day in New York didn’t bear any fruit and just tired him out. There was no news about Schliemann and it was the same for getting any new information. He returned from the city exhausted and angry. Since he had dinner there, he didn’t even show in the restaurant that evening, heading straight for his room. It was cold there again so Erik had to restart the central heating. Meanwhile he ran a bath where he hoped to warm himself a bit. He slipped out of his clothes and stepped into the bathtub. The water wasn’t hot, but warm enough to send spikes into his cold toes. But it felt good, very good after such a disappointing day. The tiredness spread through body and mind. However he didn’t expect to be lulled by the heat and fall asleep.

_“Das ist eine gut Junge, Erik, gut Junge,” Schmidt whispered to him as Erik tried to bend a nail. It started successfully – he was able to move it and make it twitch as it wasn’t iron but Plasticine. Schmidt stood behind him, his presence looming over Erik as a dark cloud. Fear made Erik concentrate and distracted him just the same. He was sweating, feeling very hot even though the room was cold. The nail still wasn’t obeying. He had done much more before, why wasn’t it working again? Erik was confused. The fear was nearly making him cry._

_“Tempo! Erik, tempo!” Schmidt started to be impatient._

_“Ich kann nicht,” Erik gritted through his teeth. His hands were reaching for a nail but they only trembled with effort. “Ich kann... nicht.”_

_He was tired, hungry and terrified and his head and feet were hurting. Schmidt didn’t let him sit for hours. However he had a lot of different ways to push Erik. None of them pleasant. He just wanted it to be over. Once – a few days ago during a different test - he even begged Dr. Schmidt to let him die already. But Schmidt only smiled tightly and informed him he was too precious to die._

_“Na gut,” Schmidt said more sternly and left Erik alone. Erik breathed out with relief and slid to the floor. He allowed himself to sit down already, though it could annoy Schmidt. But maybe if he overshot the mark... maybe then Schmidt would let him go._

_However Schmidt wasn’t going to let him go. Not now or ever. As Erik heard footsteps he scrambled to his feet clumsily again, his legs trembling with the effort to hold him upright. Schmidt entered the laboratory again, some nameless soldier following him carrying something cylindrical and heavy, covered with cloth. He put it on one of surgical tables, saluted and left quickly. Nobody except Schmidt ever wanted to be near Erik. They watched him with fear and disgust, as if he was some strange, dangerous animal. In their eyes he certainly impersonated one._

_“Es wird dir helfen,” Schmidt motioned to the weird thing he had brought with him. He wore a small smile that indicated how excited he was about Erik’s coming reaction. His hand grabbed the cloth and pulled it off lazily. The cylindrical thing appeared to be a jar full of sallow liquid. And Erik found himself staring at the pair of eyes he never thought he’d see again._

_Suddenly he couldn’t breathe, he felt like he was drowning, going deaf, blind, completely surrounded by cold, sallow water..._

Erik woke the moment he slipped under the water. He sat upright immediately, gasping for air and desperately trying to tell what was reality and what was the dream. Then he realised where he was and what had happened and calmed down a little. He rubbed his face with his hands, his skin wrinkled and slippery with water that cooled down while he had fallen asleep. 

Schmidt couldn’t leave Erik alone even after his death. How delightful. 

Erik stood up and left the bath. He rubbed himself with a towel until he was completely dry and wrapped himself in the bathrobe. Before he left the bathroom he pulled out the plug in the tub. His hands were still trembling a bit, the faint mirage of his dream still haunting him. He fetched himself his cigarettes in order to light one up. Then he collapsed onto the bed, lying there useless and shaken, watching the high white ceiling. The ash was dropping on a pillowcase but he didn’t care in the slightest.

Schmidt. The bastard was following him everywhere no matter if he lived or not. Erik’s trauma transformed into frustration. He wanted to attack something badly but suppressed himself. If he broke something he would have to pay for it. He opened his palm and his lighter flew into it obediently. Then he let it levitate and rotate above him. The calmness started to spread through him slowly. He couldn’t let Schmidt manipulate him even now. He had to fight it. He had to. He finished his cigarette soon, smashing it in ashtray.

But the frustration crept back. He let out a short, angry scream of frustration and the lighter scattered into hundreds of pieces.


	2. If I Needed Someone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here comes Charles, oh yeah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for taking so long but I was off to film festival. (Btw. It was superb!)
> 
> I have to say big thank-you to my beta-reader, Charlio! She's a darling.
> 
> The title of the chapter is another song by The Beatles. Its lyrics fits Cherik so well it makes me chuckle.

Next day was Saturday and since the National Archives were closed he hadn’t have much to do. He went for a ride (being surrounded completely by metal was a very calming experience for him) but had all his meals in the hotel’s restaurant where Angel smiled at him every time she brought him his order. There were a few guests during a day but no one stayed at the hotel – they were just exploiting the restaurant. Erik meant to ask the receptionist or Angel if there were any possibilities to entertain himself somehow – maybe if the hotel had some place where he could exercise – but didn’t do so yet. He had a few books with him which were enough to keep him busy so far. Besides Erik was used to long, boring days when he had nothing to do. He wasn’t naturally patient but he has learnt to wait. 

In the evening he started to long for a glass of whisky. Since it was slightly after nine pm, the restaurant would probably be closed but he hoped he could make it yet. Or he could break in carefully and have a drink for free. They surely wouldn’t notice. Erik was good at being furtive, just like an experienced thief. 

Determined, he adjusted his clothes and left his room. As he approached the restaurant he felt it wasn’t locked – though the door was closed – and he heard some voices from inside. He took it as a good sign and went for a handle, not daring to open it with his powers. As he opened the door, he saw that there was a group of people. There were the receptionist, Angel, those guys he saw here two days ago and another young man he has never seen before. The moment they noticed him they all fell silent and looked at him surprisedly. First one to break the silence was Angel:

“Mr. Eisenhardt? Do you need anything?” Her voice was friendly and curious.

Erik debated waving it off and excusing himself but the group – entire staff, probably – seemed to plan to stay here, and he wouldn’t be able come back to steal some drink so why not ask, they were almost kids; harmless, well-meaning kids –

“I was wondering if the bar was closed already,” Erik said after while and everyone seemed to find their balance again, relaxing a bit and some of them smiled slightly, remembering that Erik was their guest. Only guest at the moment.

“Oh, well, it is but I can get you something, no problem,” Angel informed and moved behind the bar immediately. 

“Scotch, please,” Erik said before she could ask.

“Is Johnnie Walker alright?” Angel wanted to know before she reached for the bottle.

“Fine,” Erik nodded absent-mindedly. He knew everyone was glancing at him but he fixed his eyes in front of him, watching Angel pour him his drink. 

“Is everything alright, Mr. Eisenhardt?” the receptionist spoke suddenly. He – and everyone else too – looked at her surprised. But she just shrugged and corrected: “I mean, if you’re comfortable here, or if you need something. Beside a drink.”

She wasn’t mocking him but he heard the cheek he witnessed yesterday. He had to suppress a grin. Girls these days.

“Everything is fine,” he assured her, forgetting to ask about local entertainment. He turned back to Angel who had prepared him his drink already (should he be bothered that she remembered he liked it straight?). As he stood by the bar he noticed its surface was debased by some kind of burn. He wanted to ask about it since he hadn't seen it before but it wasn’t the right time. 

When he reached for his wallet, the receptionist made herself heard again:

“Consider it on the house.” Once again everyone gave her a surprised look. However she didn’t seem bemused at all. “You’re our only guest now, we have to pamper you.” That made Erik laugh involuntarily. Others snickered too.

“Well, thank you,” Erik rewarded her with one of his rare genuine smiles. He grabbed his glass and lifted it as if drinking to her tribute. Then he wanted to leave but realised it was probably forbidden to carry away restaurant’s property.

“I suppose I can’t bring it to my room,” he more stated than asked. Members of staff exchanged glances as if they weren’t sure what the rules said. 

“I don’t think it’ll be that much of problem,” black guy made himself heard for the first time.

“Or you could stay here and drink with us. We were going to,” the receptionist explained and smirked widely. She looked at others as if she searched for approval.

“Yeah, why not,” the black guy shrugged and smiled at Erik as if assuring him that he was welcome.

“Are you serious?” Erik arched an eyebrow. He didn’t know if the idea was good or deterrent. They seemed to be nice people but Erik was never social. And they had to be at least ten years younger. The offer stole his breath away a bit. He didn’t understand why they would want his company.

“What, did you have enough of drinking with teenagers when you were one too?” the receptionist dared him. 

“No,” Erik answered honestly. God knew he had many serious and sadder things to do. 

“Well, let’s make up to it now!” the receptionist exclaimed and everyone else grumbled in approval. Erik was still reluctant to stay but maybe it was boredom or the fact he hadn't had a proper conversation in days that made him sit down at their table – two tables pulled up together actually – and let them bring him into the conversation.

“We should introduce ourselves first,” the receptionist decided and offered her little white hand: “I’m Raven.”

“Max Eisendart,” Erik replied as he took her palm in his. 

“I’m Armando,” the black guy leaned across the table to shake hands. 

“’m Alex. We’re janitors, helping where it’s needed and so,” the Caucasian guy explained. He seemed to be always by Armando’s side. 

“Sean,” a guy with curly red hair wearing shirt with modern colorful pattern waved at him since he sat on the other end of table. “I’m the cook. Good one, I’d say.”

“But much worse with glasses, huh?” Erik couldn’t help himself. Sean looked confused and Raven turned to him to explain that Erik had helped her the other day. Erik started to regret he had said anything because though he certainly was malicious, Sean looked more than embarrassed. Erik almost expected he'd crawl under the table.

“You know my name,” Angel finished the introduction casually as she took a seat beside him. They all seemed so at ease and undisturbed by his presence that he wasn’t sure what they expected from him. Armando bent under table and came back with few bottles of beer. Then he handed them to the guys and Raven and Angel shared a bottle of red wine. Erik watched them all with slight uncertainty and awkwardness. He waited for them to uncap the bottles and then they clinked all their glasses together. Erik took a much longed sip of drink, the liquid stinging his tongue lightly. It felt heavenly though there were better brands of whisky.

Since he was afraid they would ask unwanted questions, he started with one of his own: “So you all work here, am I right?” Although it was more a statement than a question but he had to start somewhere.

“Yeah. Our staff is limited but we’re not usually too busy so it’s manageable,” Angel answered. 

“You’re all the staff?” Erik quirked an eyebrow. 

“Oh no,” Sean jumped in the conversation, his voice thick with Irish accent, “there’s Charles and Riptide yet.”

“Riptide? What a strange name,” Erik couldn’t help but mock it. But everyone glared at Sean as if he sad something vulgar.

“It’s just a nickname. They’re on the business trip now,” Armando said to steer away the conversation. 

“So they’re managing this place,” Erik assumed. To tell the truth, he was more and more interested in the running of the hotel. There was something odd about it.

“No, Charles and I do,” Raven corrected him and at his surprised expression explained further: “We’re Xaviers. Well, I’m more theoretically than practically, being siblings not related by blood, but we’re in that direction.”

“Wait, you and your brother manage the hotel but you work at the reception? What sort of brother is he?” Erik couldn’t help but feel scornful.

“Oh no, we split the work but as Angel said, our staff is limited, so I help out as receptionist. It’s not as if it takes up too much of my time,” she grimaced at her own joke. Some of others snickered too. 

“But don’t think bad about Charles,” Armando added. “He’s a good guy. Kind of a big brother to all of us.”

“Yeah, not much of a boss,” Alex made himself heard for the first time and smirked at something he had to think. 

“He’s coming back tomorrow. I’m sure you’ll meet him. He’s very friendly,” Raven commented almost sourly. 

“If you say so,” Erik shrugged and then the conversation changed course. He was excluded from it a bit but it wasn’t as if he minded. He just drank his – free – whisky contentedly and listened to the others. Then Alex and Armando disappeared and came back with a portable turntable and Sean started to babble about the newest The Beatles’s album that he brought up afterwards. They asked Erik if he minded to listen to it and he just shrugged because though he'd heard about the band already – it would be hard not to – he couldn’t remember any of their songs. While Sean and Armando were busy with the turntable, others tried to gain some information about Erik – taking the liberty to call him Max and he didn’t stop them – but he replied with dull and vague answers that made them lose interest rather quickly. They seemed to be happy enough to learn he was a businessman travelling around the world. His travels became a more interesting topic and Erik didn’t mind describing various places because there was nothing personal about it. 

Erik never cared about socializing and he avoided it as much as he could. It wasn’t as if he had time for it anyway. But he found he liked to talk to these youngsters (he couldn’t help but call them ‘kids’ in his head though they must have been in their twenties already). They were eager, smart and mostly polite. Erik had to wonder where they had all come from and why did they end up in a place like this. Although he learned few things about them, he still couldn’t answer those questions. 

“Don’t you regret that you aren’t doing anything else in your lives? You could be much more than hotel staff,” Erik said once when he felt particularly involved. 

They fell silent after his question. Raven looked pensive, looking nowhere and her tight lips indicated she didn’t want to reply. Armando and Angel exchanged looks. Erik could understand that those two were part of a minority so it was hard for them to achieve something. But for Christ’s sake they lived in 1966, the times were changing, both for blacks and women. Erik wanted to talk about it aloud but Alex made himself heard all of sudden:

“I was in prison before I started to work here. I’d much rather be a janitor here than go back there.”

It pretty much made Erik shut up though it awoke more questions. Others mumbled in agreement to Alex’s proclamation. The mood darkened a bit and Erik felt he had said something he shouldn’t, but that was a key to his questions. But he didn’t pry. It would be hypocritical of him if he did. 

Soon enough they found another topic that made everyone except Erik forget the previous conversation. He stayed silent until he finished his drink – third in a row – and then excused himself in order to go to sleep. 

He wasn’t really good at socializing.

~x~

Charles stepped inside the entry hall with great relief. First of all he was glad the building was still standing, and then he was very happy to be back again. He shook off his coat and picked up his luggage, heading straight to Raven’s office where he knew she was waiting for him impatiently.

“Charles!” she exclaimed excitedly and hurried to hug him in greeting. Charles tried to reciprocate but his hands were full. “So happy to see you. But you’re late! Everything is fine?”

“Hello yourself. Yes, everything is perfectly alright, thanks. We just got a bit stuck in Manhattan,” Charles explained and as soon as Raven let him go, he put his luggage down and threw his coat over the nearest chair. Then he and Raven sat in front of the lit fireplace where he could warm himself a bit.

“So, tell me, how are things here? Nothing happened during my absence?” Charles asked as he rubbed his numb hands together.

“Well, not much. Some problems with the central heating but the guys took care of it. We had two guests this week, one of them is still staying. He’s an interesting character. Logan stopped by. Oh and Sean had a bit of an accident,” Raven winced slightly.

“What happened?” Charles wanted to know with concern. 

“Alex burst into the kitchen, made Sean jump out of his skin and he yelped. It broke some glasses but that’s it,” Raven explained.

“I’ll have to tell Janos to buy some new ones,” Charles thought aloud.

“Oh, where is he anyway?” Raven remembered.

“He stayed behind. He promised to visit a few of our clients on the East Coast,” Charles replied and stood to get himself a drink. He knew too well that Raven hid a bottle of brandy in her table. Raven didn’t protest when he took it out.

“And how it went? You didn’t tell me yet,” it was her turn to ask. Charles sighed and came back with the bottle and two glasses. 

“It was pretty much a disaster. Two people declined my offer, another two didn’t even let me talk to them and one woman became so hysterical I had to erase the memory from her mind. She wanted to call the police. But another woman, Mrs. Smythe from Chicago, promised to stay in touch. She has a kind of telekinesis and she wanted to have better control over it, but she’s married with children so she has to stay at home. But it was a promising deal,” Charles recounted, a strain audible in his voice. They both sipped their drinks and Raven listened carefully.

“Well, at least there was that one. And nobody was threatening you with exorcism. Or was there?” she joked. It made Charles laugh.

“Oh no, thank God.”

“You look horrible,” Raven stated then.

“Thank you, I needed to hear something equally positive,” Charles murmured.

“You should go to sleep. You need some rest,” Raven ignored him and patted his hand. Charles smiled at her weakly and downed his drink.

“Right. I should help you with administration tomorrow. And have a special lesson with Sean,” Charles thought aloud.

“You know, Charles, the world won't collapse if you remove some of your responsibilities,” Raven commented sarcastically.

“But I’m already pushing a lot more on your shoulders than you deserve,” Charles protested. Raven gave him a sad smile because there were things that needed to change, but there was never the best solution for them. “We’ll work it out later. Now I really need to reacquaint myself with my bed.”

“Yeah, go on, I’m off to bed soon too,” Raven encouraged him. They both stood up and Raven handed him his coat and saw him to the door of her office. 

“Good night. Thanks for waiting for me,” Charles said and gave her a kiss on the forehead.

“It’s fine. Good night, Charles,” she replied and watched him leave. Then she shut the door behind him and went back to her chair in front of the fire. She hunched in it, suddenly feeling all her emotions bearing down on her. Her eyes glanced into the fire and she felt them become teary. But she didn’t fight it. 

Truthfully, she didn’t know for how long she’d be able to take it.

~x~

Monday morning Erik left rather early for New York again. Except this time he didn’t stay there for too long. Schliemann’s body hadn't been found yet. His visit to the National Archive was fruitless again, so Erik returned back to Westchester during early afternoon. Since he hadn’t have lunch in the city, he headed to the restaurant shortly after his return, not bothering to change from his suit to something more comfortable. Angel greeted him with a smile and handed him the menu.

“Hello, Mr. Eisenhardt,” she addressed him – he suspected it was more mocking politeness since they all called him by his first name during that Saturday party, “how is the business going?”

“Not that well as I would like it to,” Erik murmured in reply and glossed it over by ordering his drink and food. Angel probably understood he didn’t want to talk about it, because she said nothing more and stalked off to go yell the order at Sean in the kitchen. Then she came back and got Erik his beer.

While he was waiting for his food to arrive, someone else came to the restaurant, a man in his late twenties. Only instead of sitting down and waiting for Angel to arrive, he went directly and confidently to the bar where he greeted with her rather loudly (and Erik was sitting nearby so he heard their conversation if he wanted or not):

“Angel, love! How’s it going?”

“Hey! Fine, I guess. Raven said you arrived last night. Why am I just seeing you now, huh?”

“I overslept breakfast, the trip rather wore me out. Tell me, could you fetch me something for lunch? I didn’t eat yet.”

“Sure thing, Charles. I’ll be right back.”

_Charles, huh,_ Erik thought and had to turn to look at the man again. He knew he was Raven’s older brother but he expected him to be much older. They were both too young to manage a hotel. Where did they get the money for it? They might have inherited it. It would explain lots of things. Still it would have to be rather big amount of money to be able to buy this estate. Besides why would anyone want to establish a hotel, when being so rich?

Charles turned to look around the restaurant, finding that Erik was watching him. Their eyes locked for a few seconds and Erik knew he had to say something to explain why he was looking at him. 

“So you’re the one who’s managing this,” Erik stated and swept his hand around himself to imply what he was talking about. He chose his words very carefully – he wanted to know if Xavier would deny his sister’s share. It took Xavier a while to reply, evidently being caught by surprise.

“Just a half of the lead,” Charles said with light smile. Then he hopped off the bar stool and went to Erik. He offered his hand: “Charles Xavier.”

“Max Eisenhardt,” Erik replied without so much as blinking, “I’ve heard about you from the staff.”

“Did you? That surprises me,” Xavier grinned and pointed to chair opposite to Erik’s: “Do you mind?”

“Of course not,” Erik answered without hesitation. He had started the conversation anyway. When Charles was taking a seat, Erik had a chance to look at him properly. He actually seemed younger than Erik had put him first, and he had this charming boyish face with bright blue eyes, pale skin and reddish lips and cheeks. He looked like a character from Oscar Wilde’s fairytales. If he wasn’t going to be worth talking to, at least he was pleasant to look at. 

“So you befriended the others,” Charles assumed as he crossed his legs comfortably and threaded his hands in his lap. He didn’t say ‘staff’, he used more neutral ‘others’. It pleased Erik. 

“You could say that,” Erik admitted though the expression ‘befriend’ was too strong. 

“That’s great. We like to meet new people. Though it might make us more... familiar, sometimes,” Xavier flashed him grin. The guy didn’t seem to be faking his words or friendliness. Maybe it was true what the youngsters said about him. And his confession would certainly explain a lot.

“I don’t mind,” Erik shrugged although he wasn’t sure if he meant it. 

“Can I ask you what brings you here? Of course it’s not my business so you don’t have to answer me,” Xavier continued, all polite and interested. 

“Work,” Erik replied simply and shortly and hoped he wouldn't have to elaborate. Xavier gave him small smile as if he understood and didn’t pry.

“Are you planning to stay for long?” he asked instead.

“I’m not sure. For a few days yet.” It was true that he didn’t know. Erik didn’t give it much thought. He was satisfied so far and hadn't decided about his future actions yet. His research wasn’t helping him much.

“Very well. I hope you’re not bored here,” Charles added which reminded Erik of his question:

“Actually, I wanted to ask if there was any kind of entertainment here.”

“Oh, sure. Of course. I’ll show you around after lunch, if you want,” Xavier offered and Erik wasn’t going to decline. Then he asked him to eat his lunch with him as a polite gesture, because it would be weird to send him away considering their arrangement. Not long afterwards Angel brought them their food, quirking an eyebrow when she saw they were sitting together but didn’t comment. She left them alone, probably going to gossip about it to Sean and the others. 

They continued to talk during lunch too, and Erik found out that Charles wasn’t only nice to look at, but it was also pleasure to talk to him since he proved himself intelligent, perceptive and witty. Having a conversation with him varied greatly from talking to other members of the hotel’s staff. Charles seemed to be younger than him but his mentality was definitely on Erik’s level. Erik hasn’t had better conversation in ages. 

After lunch Charles gave him the promised tour. Erik found out there was a room just next to the restaurant with pool tables and table football and others things that Erik didn’t catch when they were going through. Then he lead him further to show him where the hotel’s indoor pool was – _Of course a mansion like this has an indoor pool,_ Erik thought ironically – which he was going to take advantage of since he was almost desperate for some kind of workout. 

“The best is yet to come,” Charles informed him with an uncanny smile. 

They ended in one of most impressive libraries Erik has ever seen. He had been to a few of he world’s biggest ones, which this one couldn’t compare to, but for a _hotel_ it certainly was enormous. It had another floor and full bookshelves were climbing up to the ceiling. The room was spacious with a few unattached bookcases in the middle and chairs in the corners. There were long and narrow windows that bathed the library in afternoon sunlight. The place smelled of wood, paper and something spicy but no must. It seemed to be kept in a very clean state.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? Of course, it’s not the New York Public Library or the Harvard University Library but we do have a pretty good collection... even some books in foreign languages... fiction, non-fiction, whatever you have in mind. Raven always made fun that one needs a map here but the cases are titled...” Charles was babbling with enthusiasm. Obviously he loved this room the most of all. Erik couldn’t blame him. He stepped to the nearest bookcase and reached out to graze spines of books. 

“If you would like to borrow something, feel free to,” Charles added. Erik thanked him and continued to look around. There was so much to look at. This place looked the noblest of all houses. Erik remembered when his mother took him to the public library in Düsseldorf for the first time. Those high ceiling and endless bookcases always aroused respect in him. The silence and wisdom breathing from that place made him believe that was what Heaven looked like –

Suddenly he felt a painful pang in his head but it disappeared as quickly as it came. It surprised him and woke him from his wool-gathering. He turned back to Charles who was rubbing his forehead with a ridiculous grimace on his face. Erik found it funny that they might have experienced the same short headache if it was worth calling it that.

“I’m sorry I’m so redundant,” Charles apologized when he noticed Erik’s look. Erik wasn’t sure if Charles was still speaking when he started to daydream so he just shook his head.

“It’s alright.”

“So are you busy or would you devote some time to playing pool with me?” Charles proposed with another charming smile of his. It wouldn’t hurt to accept, Erik decided.

“I’m not busy,” he replied simply and let Charles lead him from the library again.

~x~

“Is there any reason for this meeting or are you just happy to be back here?” Raven asked practically as they all gathered in one of club rooms. 

“I’m always happy to be here with you all,” Charles assured her and others, “though yes, I’d like to discuss something with you.” 

He had met all of them during the day already so they knew about the failure of his trip and nobody asked about it anymore. So they knew this meeting wasn’t about that. Since they were curious they let him speak. 

“It’s about Mr. Lehnsherr. I mean Mr. Eisenhardt,” Charles corrected himself quickly. Everyone looked surprised.

“What? It’s a false name?” Angel was first to react.

“Ah, yes, actually,” Charles said, regretting already his slip of the tongue because everyone started to talk immediately.

“He’s a criminal!” Sean assumed right away. Others rolled their eyes though they had the same idea.

“Well, you may say that. But it’s hard to judge him since his actions could be justified according to his difficult past. It’s an act of revenge...” Charles started to explain not wanting to put the wrong impression on Erik but he didn’t want to hide the facts from his friends either.

“An avenger... sounds like some western movie,” Alex snorted though he seemed interested by the news since he had a criminal past too although unwillingly.

“And what is he doing here?” Raven wanted to know, being wary about their guest all of sudden.

“I don’t think he knows it either. But you don’t have to be afraid of him. He has nothing against you. Besides I don’t think he would harm his own kind,” Charles winced at it slightly. It wasn’t pleasant to look in Lehnsherr’s head but he was interested in the man. He wanted to know what brought him here. But his ugly past made him rather sick. He wasn’t judging him. It would be against his conviction. However he couldn’t not tell the others.

“His kind? Wait, do you mean...” Armando frowned.

“Yes. He’s a mutant,” Charles confirmed with a short nod. Some had whooped and the murmur started anew. “I thought there was something peculiar about him, that’s why I read his mind, to find out this.” And much more.

“What can he do?” Angel wanted to know.

“He can manipulate metal,” Charles informed to their fascination.

“Now, that’s cool,” Sean stated. 

“Will you talk to him?” Raven turned to Charles in a more serious manner.

“Of course I will. I just want to get nearer to him. I’m afraid he’s rather hot-tempered but he could be helpful. I think it would be really good for us and him to cooperate,” Charles replied and Raven gave him sort of unconvinced look as she thought there was something more behind it. Charles ignored her. “He paid for his room for a few days in advance so we have time yet. I will take care of it. Try to not to change your attitude towards him. I think he rather likes you according to Saturday night.”

“Yeah, he was okay,” Sean commented.

“I believe so too,” Charles nodded. The time he spent with him today was rather nice and Charles felt the need to get to know him better. However, Erik was like no other man he had ever met. Which made it even more difficult for him to decide his strategy. He would usually know how to approach everyone he wanted to make contact with, picking necessary information from their minds and persuading them he was serious and well-meaning in their own terms. But even though he read Erik’s mind, he still had no idea how to act.

“Just do it before he decides to move away,” Raven gave him sour advice. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Charles answered solemnly. But she still looked somewhat doubtful. Charles didn’t know if he should blame her.

**Author's Note:**

> Schliemann is an OC.
> 
> Angel's background story is made-up though I was influenced by some information Wikipedia gave me (since I never read comics).
> 
> About Erik's dream - the idea comes from the story I've read in some book (I can't recall what book it was but I'm sure it was non-fictional). There was the story where Nazis interrogated a youth and when he didn't want to talk, they tortured him by showing him the head of his mother soused in a formaldehyde. It shook me a lot and I kind of remembered it when writing this fic. 
> 
> The phrases in the dialogue in German are taken from the internet vocabulary so there might be mistakes since I don't speak German (so feel free to correct me). I think they are understandable even without translation but here it is anyway:  
>  _“Das ist eine gut Junge, Erik, gut Junge."_ \- "That's a good boy, Erik, good boy."  
>  _"Tempo, Erik! Tempo!"_ \- "Come on, Erik! Come on!"  
>  _"Ich kann nicht."_ \- "I can't."  
>  _"Na gut."_ \- "Very well."  
>  _“Es wird dir helfen."_ \- "This will help you."


End file.
